Buddleia’s in bloom, But where are the butterflies? Another season.

“No Ball Games” it said; What of imagination? Only concrete thought.

Said the tall haiku To the very small haiku “Hi. Coo. How are you?”

Hope does my head in. Disappointment I can take. Hope does my head in.

90 years ago, The whistles blew at the Somme: “Steady Carragher. And you, young Rooney. Keep all your self-discipline. It’s how to survive.” 90 years later, Lesser penalties are paid: Rule book and whistle.